


Stay

by GothamCentral



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamCentral/pseuds/GothamCentral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunited after the death of her twin brother, Myriam Abdullah, Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown work together to bring Adam Abdullah's murderers down. Myriam's history with Tim catches up with her as two dirty cops and a crime boss try to kill her.<br/>Note: Story takes place pre-52.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leave Out All the Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments.

Chapter 1 - Leave Out All the Rest

It had been a difficult day for Stephanie Brown and it was only five o’clock in the morning. She managed to sneak into her bedroom window just as the doorbell rang. Her mother was working the graveyard shift at the hospital again so it was up to Stephanie to answer the door. As she peeled off her black and eggplant uniform and slipped into her pyjamas, she couldn’t help but wonder how that night’s events unraveled. 

One of her close friends from high school was killed tonight. The realization that Adam, the young man she sat beside in Home Ec., ate lunch with in the cafeteria and studied with after school was no longer alive brought tears to Stephanie’s eyes. He was a good guy who ended up in one hell-of-a pickle. 

Two staccato dings rang again. Stephanie wrapped herself in a long black robe and made her way to the front door. 

This was something she was not expecting. 

A brunette with a red nose and puffy eyes stood at her doorstep. “Myriam?” Stephanie looked to the estranged friend in front of her. It had been nearly a year since she saw her last, “What’s wrong? It’s five in the morning.” Stephanie had been working on her surprise voice and facial expressions. She could guess what this particular 18 year-old was doing at her doorstep this early in the morning.

“It’s… it’s Adam.” Myriam cried, “He’s dead.”

“What?” Stephanie wanted to slap herself. She arrived at the scene when the two GCPD detectives called it in, she had to lie to Myriam’s face. “Come inside, Myr. What happened? How?” Stephanie acted frazzled. She knew what happened and how and when and mostly why. 

Myriam dragged herself through Stephanie’s door and went straight to the couch. She sat down and stared at the pink carpet. Tears overwhelmed her eyes. Stephanie could see Myriam’s shoulder shaking. She was still in shock. Stephanie grabbed a fleece blanket from the ottoman and placed it around Myriam’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, hun.” Stephanie wrapped her arms around the 18 year-old, “It’s going to be okay.” She said calmingly.

“I’m sorry for coming here, Steph.” Myriam apologized between sniffles, “I saw someone tonight who reminded me of you and I had no idea who else I could talk to about this. Adam was the only family I had left.”

Stephanie’s heart sank when she realized that Myriam was right— she had no one left. Her parents died five years ago when Gotham was hit with the major earthquake. They were buried in their own homes. Myriam and Adam, Steph remembered, were visiting relatives in Lebanon at the time. So many children were orphaned during the quake that the State couldn’t keep track. Myriam and Adam slipped through the cracks of the system and managed to be forgotten wards. They took care of each other, with some help from the Wayne Foundation.  
“Would you like some tea, Myriam?” Stephanie asked.

Myriam nodded slowly, still staring at the carpet beneath her feet.

Stephanie walked to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. Oh god, she thought, Tim will want to know. Adam and Myriam were his friends too. Adam was Tim’s friend long before he was my friend. Stephanie stood up and prepared the tea, I’ll call Tim once I take care of Myr, she told herself. 

Stephanie poured two cups of tea and walked back to the couch and found Myriam breathing heavily and quickly with her chest rising with every dramatic inhale and her eyes open wide with fear. Stephanie recognized the symptoms from her own experience. The teenager was having a panic attack. She quickly placed the two mugs on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around Myriam.

“It’s okay. Just take a deep breath. Inhale,” Stephanie instructed gently, “Now exhale. Very good. Now, name me 5 things you can smell.”

“What?” Myriam looked confused.

“Name 5 things you can smell right now.” Stephanie repeated.

Myriam’s eyes slowly shut, “I smell chamomile,” Myriam sniffed, “lavender,”

“Good, keep going.”

“Vanilla,” 

“That’s my deodorant, two more.” Stephanie let out a light chuckle.

“Salt and,” Myriam took one final sniff, “waffles?” and her heartbeat returned to a regular tempo. Stephanie gave her a cup of tea and sat beside her.

“My mom makes me a batch of waffles for the week before she goes to work sometimes,” Stephanie explained. “What happened, Myriam?”

Myriam took a sip of the chamomile tea, “Adam was…” Myriam paused, “God, I told him it was a horrible idea. But, we needed the money. My parents didn’t leave us with a lot and Adam and I took on part-time jobs. We got help from the Wayne Foundation too. Adam got accepted into Gotham University for electrical engineering and when tuition was due, we got a letter from the Wayne Foundation that the money would stop coming; he couldn’t afford the tuition so he had to go to the community college; we could barely even afford that.” Myriam spoke quickly and nervously, “I even took the year off to work at a Mel’s Diner to help with expenses.”

“Myriam,” Stephanie pushed the girl’s brown hair behind her ear, “Slow down. What happened to Adam?” Stephanie knew the answer but she had to play her part.

“Adam worked for the Jamaa Al-hara,” Myriam continued.

“The Arab Mafia?” Stephanie asked. This was something she did not know.

“They didn’t really do anything that illegal. As far as mafias went, they were pretty non-violent.” Myriam clarified, “They mostly imported illegal foods, like Maggi chicken broth, and flavoured tobacco for their hookah smoking and to sell in local shops. Adam’s job was in distribution. He was working last night unloading a shipment at the docks. The shipments are usually pretty small so he usually worked alone. Oh god, he must’ve been so scared!” Myriam began to cry, “The cops arrived and apparently, Adam pulled out a gun so they,” Myriam curled her legs up and stuffed her face in her thighs and cried.

“The GCPD killed Adam?” 

Myriam managed to nod her head in between her legs.

Stephanie cradled Myriam in her arms and rocked her back and forth, “It’s okay, Myriam. It’s all going to be okay. But I need you to answer some questions, okay?”

Myriam raised her head and looked at Stephanie, she sniffed and nodded.

“Did Adam have a gun?”

Myriam shook her head, “No, that was part of our deal. No weapons and no violence. Jamaa Al-Hara had a strict rule against firearms too.”

But GCPD had a .33 mm handgun in evidence, Stephanie thought to herself.

“Steph,” Myriam wiped away the tears from her eyes, “Adam did not own a gun. I know it. I’ve heard news stories in the past about the GCPD being crooked, I think they planted the gun on him or are lying about him having a gun in the first place. The police murdered my brother.”

Stephanie held Myriam closer, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. We’ll figure this out, okay? It’s late, uh early; you look exhausted. Let me grab you a pillow and you can sleep here for the rest of the night or uh, morning.” 

“Stephanie,” Myriam grabbed Stephanie’s shoulders, “Adam was murdered by the GCPD.” She said with an odd urgency in her voice.

“Myriam, I’m sure you’re right. But, right now, you need to get some rest. You’ve had a difficult night.” Stephanie replied calmly, “We’ll talk about next steps later, okay?”

Myriam nodded reluctantly, “okay.”

…

“C’mon, pick up, Tim!” Stephanie whispered impatiently into her Batman Inc.-issued cell phone.

“Steph, it’s 6 in the morning. I’ve had a long patrol and I’m exhausted. If this is about Bruce—“

“Tim, can you just shut up for a second?” Stephanie cut him off in annoyance.

Tim noticed Stephanie’s tone, “What’s wrong, Steph?” He asked concerned.

“You remember Adam Abdullah from high school?”

“Of course, I’ve been friends with him since my parents moved us to Gotham. Haven’t seen him since, well, you know.” They don’t really talk about Tim’s rogue days when he left Gotham during Bruce’s short-lived death to work with the League of Assassins.

“Tim, Adam, well…” Stephanie wasn’t sure if she should tell Tim. After his father died, Connor and Bart and well, Stephanie died, Tim had had a difficult time coping with death. For his own health, everyone in the Batfamily was cautious about what they told Tim and how they told him. But Stephanie, God help her, believed that the best way to take off a band-aid was to rip it off, “Tim, Adam died last night. Myriam’s is in my living room right now and she’s obviously not taking this well.”

There was silence on Tim’s end. He was processing the information. 

“Tim?”

“How did it happen?” Tim’s voice became quiet.

“He was moving contraband for Jamaa Al-Hara down by the docks. Cops killed him.”

“Shit,” Tim whispered.

“Tim, I was at the scene. The GCPD had a firearm in evidence. They said that Adam pulled it out when the cops arrived.”

Stephanie could hear Tim’s head shaking over the phone, “What the hell did Adam get himself into?” He asked himself.

“Myr told me that Adam didn’t own a gun and the Jamaa Al-Hara guys don’t let their street-level members carry firearms.” Stephanie explained.

“What are you saying, Steph?”

“She thinks the GCPD murdered her brother and planted the gun.”

“Jeez,” Tim paused for a moment, “And what do you think?” He asked Stephanie.

“Listen, Tim, Detectives CavalIo and Wise are involved; they were first on the scene and the ones who shot Adam. Those guys are more crooked than Lex Luthor… I think it’s worth looking into.” 

“I agree. I’ll meet you in the Cave tonight and we can work through it then. In the meantime, keep an eye out on Myr. She’s not thinking straight and she’s grief-ridden. I know what that does to a person. Watch out for her.”

“Of course.” Stephanie vowed and hung up the phone.


	2. What About the Rest of Us

“Stephanie!” 

The sudden shout woke Stephanie up, “Wha!” She croaked.

“Stephanie,” Crystal Brown walked into Stephanie’s room, “What did I tell you about leaving the front door unlocked?”

“‘Don’t leave the front door unlocked.’” Stephanie repeated what her mother had told her surely over one thousand times.

“And what have you done?”

“Let me guess,” Stephanie stood from her bed, “I left the front door unlocked?” she answered hesitantly as she pulled on her jeans and pulled on a green rag-tee. 

“You know this neighbourhood isn’t very safe. You should always lock the door.”

“I could’ve sworn I locked— oh.” Stephanie froze, “Shit!” She said under her breath.

“Don’t swear.” Her mother scolded her.

“You didn’t happen to see a teenage girl in our family room, eh?” 

“What?”

“Nevermind. Gotta go, ma! See you tomorrow!” Stephanie grabbed her book bag, kissed her mom on the cheek and ran out the door.

Crystal shook her head in disbelief.

…

“Mr. Wayne, there’s a Myriam Abdullah here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but—“

“Send her up, Margaret.” Tim ordered his assistant through the phone.

“Of course, Mr. Wayne.”

Tim waited for Myriam at his door. He thanked Margaret for escorting the young girl to his office. When he closed the frosted glass door behind them, he turned to Myriam and embraced her in his arms, “I’m so sorry about Adam, Myr.” He whispered quietly as he held her tight.

She began to cry, “Thanks, Tim. I really appreciate it. I… I need your help.” 

“Stephanie called me,” He explained, “she told me your theory.” 

Myriam pulled away from Tim’s embrace and looked at him wide-eyed, “and?” 

“And, we’re going to get to the bottom of it.” Tim assured her.

“How?” She asked, skeptic of Tim’s assistance.

“Myriam, you and your brother are close friends of mine. You were both there for me when my mother and father died. Adam was an incredible person. I’m going to call in every favour I’m owed to get to the bottom of this. I promise.” 

Myriam looked to the hard-wood floor, “Tim, Adam was doing work for Jamaa Al-Hara, if he had a gun on him, then they would’ve known, right?”

“Take a seat, Myr.” Tim pointed to the black leather couch in the corner, “I know that right now you don’t want to talk about it; trust me, I’ve been where you are many times before. But, I need some information about Adam’s affiliation with Jamaa Al-Hara and whether the names Roman Cavallo and Marcus Wise ever came up.”

“Cavallo and Wise? No. Never heard the names before, why?”

Tim shook his head, “Just some guys we used to play soccer against in high school.” He lied, “So tell me about Jamaa Al-Hara.”

Myriam nodded and sat down, “Of course.” She took a deep breath and began. She explained her and Adam’s financial situation after their parents died and the jobs she and Adam managed to work were never enough— especially when it came to Adam’s tuition and saving up for Myriam’s tuition. She would go to college once they had enough money.

“I thought the Wayne Foundation was helping you two?”

Myriam shook her head, “The money stopped coming less than a year ago… about the same time you disappeared, actually. I guess Mr. Wayne stopped caring for us when you didn’t notice.”

“Myriam, that’s not what happened. The company was going through some financial trouble at that time. There were budget cuts everywhere.” Tim tried to explain, “Continue with your Uncle.”

“Uncle Ali is the head of Jamaa Al-Hara. He brought groceries for Adam and I every week after our parents died. I mean, he wasn’t really our uncle— not by blood at least; but he promised our parents he’d watch out for us. He was my dad’s best friend.”

Tim nodded, “So why would your Uncle allow Adam to work for his gang?”

“We needed the money. Uncle Ali made sure that Adam’s role in the gang was the safest. No guns and no violence. Adam helped with the smuggling of small items like flavoured tobacco and chicken broth. Relatively speaking, it was barely illegal. I don’t know what happened last night; but I got a visit from two police officers at around 4 in the morning. They said that Adam was caught smuggling in illegal substances and when they approached him, he pulled out a gun and before he could fire a bullet, they…” Myriam choked on her words.

Tim wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. She rested her head on his chest and sobbed into this jacket. 

“It’s okay, Myriam. Take a breather.” He calmed her.

“They said they had to ‘subdue’ him. At first I thought they just arrested him and put him in county for the night. When I asked to speak with him, they told me that he was dead.” 

“So you think the gun was planted? Police killed a non-white male and planted a gun on him to cover their asses?”

“Honestly, Tim,” Myriam grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes, “I don’t know anymore. But what I do know is that Adam did not have a gun on him.”

Tim stood up and looked out the panorama window surrounding his office, “You mentioned that the officers said he was caught smuggling illegal substances— is that just the tobacco?”

“I guess,” Myriam answered, “Jamaa Al-Hara doesn’t really smuggle more than that. And if they did, Uncle Ali wouldn’t have let Adam near it.”

Tim scratched at this temple, “Okay, I’ll see what I can find out from the GCPD and go from there.”

Myriam stood up quickly, “Tim, you’re amazing! Thank you! Thank you!” She hugged him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughed. 

Myriam nodded and pulled away from him. 

“By the way,” Tim walked to his desk, “Alfred has offered to make the funeral arrangements. He’s familiar with Muslim funerals.”

Myriam froze. For an entire minute she looked at Tim blankly and then finally held her tears at bay long enough to say, “No. I can’t accept—“

“Myr, it’s done. Alfred has already made the arrangements. We just have to wait for the GCPD to release your brother’s body and—“ Tim looked down and saw Myriam’s arms wrapped around him and her face digging into his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Stay out of trouble, okay?” Tim kissed her forehead.

“No promises,” Myriam looked up at him with her first smile in the last 12 hours. 

“If you need anything or if you find out any new information, call me right away. Stay out of trouble and be cautious. We don’t know who else is involved in this and it could be dangerous.”

Myriam nodded, “You sound like a soldier not a CEO, Tim.” 

Tim forced a tight-lipped smile and with that, Myriam left.


	3. When They Come For Me

“Uncle Ali?” Myriam entered the Hookah bar on Kane and Adelaide Street. The shop, usually filled with Arab men smoking shisha and drinking tea, was empty. “Uncle A—“ she stopped when she heard chatter from the backroom. She walked to the room slowly trying to hear what the people behind the door were saying. The voices were muffled but she could hear at least two distinct voices, one of which was most definitely her Uncle’s. She contemplated whether she should just go home. Her Uncle was obviously having a private meeting and she shouldn’t interrupt. But, she couldn’t help but wonder whether the closed-door conversation was about her brother. Maybe Uncle Ali knew something she didn’t. Myriam took a deep breath and knocked quickly at the door and opened it, “Uncle Ali?” she called before fully entering the room.

Three men stood from a small round table, her Uncle and two men in cheap suits.

“Myriam?” Her Uncle looked confused, “What are you doing here?” he was obviously angry. His eyebrows were furrowed and his dark eyes became bloodshot. 

“I’m sorry, Uncle. I just… didn’t you hear about Adam?” She stared at the two strangers; they looked out of place in her Uncle’s Hookah bar.

“Yes,” his anger turned into sadness, “I’m so sorry, Myriam. May Allah grant him entrance into paradise.” he embraced her.

Something felt wrong, Myriam thought. Uncle Ali rarely did business with Americans; and if he did, he’d have his men in the room as protection. 

Uncle Ali turned to the two men, “Thank you, Mr. Cavallo and Mr. Wise. I will discuss your proposal with my family.”

Myriam immediately looked at the two men standing from the table. Those were the names Tim mentioned earlier; but they looked like they graduated high school at least a decade ago. As the two men shook her Uncle’s hand, she noticed something gleaming off their waists. Her eyes opened wide at the realization and she looked back and forth between the two men with GCPD badges on their belts and her traitorous Uncle. 

As Cavallo went to shake Ali’s hand, he noticed Myriam staring, “She knows,” he whispered into Ali’s ear.

Ali looked to Myriam and slowly closed his eyes and nodded. With that, Cavallo told Wise to ‘cuff her.

“What?” Myriam stepped back.

“Myriam Abdullah,” He grabbed her arms and placed them behind her back, “you are hereby under arrest…” Wise stopped and smirked villainously, “actually, you’re not under arrest at all.” He tightened the handcuffs and pushed her to the ground, “This is all under the table and you, my dear, were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He pulled out his gun and cocked it at the back of Myriam’s head.

Myriam managed to turn around and faced Wise, “Please, don’t.” she begged softly. Her heartbeat raced and her hands sweat as she tried to slip through the handcuffs. She could feel the bruises form on her wrists, “I— I didn’t see anything. I just came to see my Uncle and I didn’t find him. The shop was empty, okay? I didn’t see my Uncle here and I didn’t see you two either.” She hoped the panicked lies that left her lips would save her.

Cavallo smiled and looked at Wise, “She sounds just like her brother.” He laughed.

“Uncle!” Myriam cried to Ali, “Please! You’re like a father to me! You promised my parents you’d take care of me and Adam not send us to our deaths!” she yelled in Arabic. 

Ali looked solemnly at Myriam, “Adam knew too much and now, so do you.” he said disappointedly in his mother-tongue, and turned to Cavallo, “Take care of this. I have business to take care of.” and left.

Myriam waited for the door to close behind Ali before she said, “Please, I—“ but was stopped when Wise’s fist hit her left cheek.

“Shut up.” He had an eery calmness to him.

Myriam pulled herself up, “Listen, I can—“ she saw Wise’s fist rise and he delivered another punch, she fell back, “I can be of value!” she cried before he could hit her again.

The two detectives laughed and Wise dropped his fist, “How so?” Cavallo asked curiously.

Myriam smirked despite the stinging pain from her left cheek, “I know where he hides the money.”

“And how would you know something like that?” Wise asked.

“Because my dad hid it for him.” 

“How much?” Wise demanded. Myriam flinched back; she could feel the area around her left eye begin to swell and something dripping down her cheek.

“When my dad hid it, there was about $10 million but Ali,” she spat his name and dare not call him Uncle, ”deposited cash in the safe every month… I don’t know how much there is now.”

“Where is the safe?”

“How do I know you won’t kill me when I tell you?” Her voice was shaking.

“Good point,” Cavallo smirked, “As a sign of goodwill, we’ll let you go. In three days, once we get our affairs in order, we’ll stop by your house and you’ll lead us to the safe.”  
Myriam nodded quickly as Wise removed the handcuffs.

“And Myriam?” Wise whispered in her ear, “You’d better be home. Otherwise, we’ll get your Uncle to take care of you on his own.” His cigarette breath nearly made Myriam puke. “And word on the street is Uncle Ali likes to skin people alive.”

She nodded as she massaged her wrists, “What about Ali? He’ll know you didn’t kill me.”

“You’re going to pretend to be dead. You get us the money and we’ll take care of your Uncle.” Cavallo assured her.

Myriam wiped the dust off her jeans and ran.


	4. Look After You

Myriam reached the steps of her home and found Tim waiting at the bottom holding his phone tight in one hand. She tried to turn around before he could see her.

“Myriam!” He called to her as she began walking away from her home, “Where’ve you been?” He ran up to her and tapped her shoulder lightly, “Stephanie and I have been calling you for the past  
—“ She turned to face him, “Who did this to you?” His tone turned from a friendly concern to a protective snarl.

Myriam shrugged his hand away, “It’s fine, Tim.” She wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You’re bleeding and swelling.” Tim looked closer, “Who hit you?” He asked again and his blue eyes turned red with rage.

Myriam walked up the stairs to her front door, “Listen, Tim, I appreciate your help with everything but I just need some time to figure some stuff out, okay?” She was tired and in pain.

“I understand, Myr.” He sighed, “But you need stitches. Let me take you to the hospital.”

“No!” She shouted, “No, I— I can’t go to the hospital.” Her lips quivered. 

“Why?”

“I’ll explain everything later,” Myriam struggled unlocking her door, “Right now… Tim, pretend you didn’t see me.” she begged, “Dammit.” she sighed in defeat as the keys fell from her hands.

Tim walked up the stairs and grabbed the keys from the ground and unlocked the door for her, “Let me at least suture that cut.” He said calmly and opened the door.

Tears streaming down her cheeks mixing with her blood, she nodded. 

Tim looked around the Abdullah residence. He hadn’t visited in almost a year. The house smelled the same; looked the same, too. The home was small. It wasn’t the same one Myriam and Adam grew up in. After the earthquake, Wayne Enterprises rebuilt most of the homes that collapsed near downtown Gotham and sold them to displaced Gothamites at a nominal fee of one dollar. The home had two bedrooms and 1 washroom— both on the second floor. The main floor had a kitchen and family room area separated by a white laminate kitchen counter. There was no dinner table, only three stools at the counter where Myriam, Adam and sometimes, Tim, would eat breakfast and dinner. That was to the left of the front door. To the right was a small hallway that led to the mud-room. He followed Myriam to the kitchen.

“Sit down,” he ordered her and pointed at a stool by the kitchen counter. He grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel, “Put this on your face. Where are your sewing supplies?”

Myriam slowly placed the frozen bag on her left cheek, “Washroom in the mirror cabinet,” she grimaced.

Tim returned a minute later with a small sewing kit and a pack of band-aids and sat beside Myriam, “This is going to hurt,” he warned empathetically, “Do you have any alcohol? Rubbing or otherwise?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a bottle of tequila in the freezer.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“It’s Adam’s,” she said defensively, “But right now, I could definitely take a shot.” She said half-jokingly. 

Tim grabbed the bottle from the freezer and poured a bit on the towel that was covering the frozen peas. Slowly, Tim dabbed the towel on Myriam’s cheek and cleaned up the blood, “The cut   
isn’t too bad. Shouldn’t take too long to suture up. It won’t be pretty, Myr, and it’s going to scar like crazy.” He warned again and brought the needle to a lighter.

“It’ll serve as a good reminder, I guess.” She replied angrily.

As Tim squeezed the gaping skin together and Myriam grimaced, “Wanna tell me what happened?” He said as he poked the needle into her skin.

“Not particularly,” She replied, “How the hell do you know how to do this, Tim?”

Tim smiled, “Alfred used to be a Combat Medic. I cut my thumb once so he taught me how to stitch it up.” He lied, sort of.

“Couldn’t go to the hospital?” she asked curiously.

“It’s funny, actually. Bruce was under investigation by the school for abuse a few years ago, so when I cut my thumb… well, the media and child services would’ve gone nuts.” Tim poked into Myriam’s skin again, “Myr, let me help you. What happened?” he tied the final suture and placed two small band-aids across the cut making two X-shaped marks, “I’ll bring you some butterfly bandages later.” he noted.

Myriam placed the frozen pea bag on her face, “I don’t want to drag you into this, Tim. It’s family matters.”

Tim’s eyes widened, “Your Uncle did this?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“He’s not my Uncle,” Myriam replied indifferently. She stood up and walked to the c and grabbed two small glasses, “According to Adam, keeping tequila in the freezer makes it sharper; it hits harder.”

“Myriam!” Tim tried to flinch her back to reality.

Myriam poured two glasses of tequila and offered Tim a glass. She had aged almost a decade since he saw her that morning. The bruising around her eye darkened and the swelling had worsened in the past ten minutes, “Thank you for your help, Tim. Really. I just really need to sleep.” She raised the small glass and swallowed the pale yellow liquid in one gulp. She winced as the liquid hit her throat.

Tim stood up and pulled Myriam into his chest, “Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She felt betrayed.

“About what?” Tim whispered.

“Cavallo and Wise,” she pulled away from him, “They weren’t some guys you and Adam played soccer against… they’re cops, Tim. Dirty cops.”

“Did— did they do this to you?” He stammered. 

“Tim,” Myriam held his hands, “I’m handling this, okay?” She said calmly. She missed being this close to him. She wanted to, in that moment, get closer. She needed the comfort his lips would bring her and the sense of security of his arms wrapped around her. At that moment, she wanted to rewind to last year when everything was normal.

Tim looked at Myriam’s hands, “Your wrists,” he gently pulled up her arms, “Myriam, what did they do to you?” He lightly followed the red and blue marks on her wrist with his forefinger.

“I’m fine!” She snapped back to the present. Myriam paused for a moment, “I want to talk to Batman.” 

“What?” 

“Bruce must not be the only one with the direct line to Batman Inc.,” she explained, “Can you connect me with Batman? I have a plan but I need his help.” 

“And what is this mighty plan of yours?”

Myriam looked at Tim blankly, “Okay, I have part of a plan.” she admitted, “But, no offence, Tim. You’re not exactly the type of master-planner I’m looking for.”

Tim grinned, “You’d be surprised. Hit me.”

Myriam sighed, “I went to see Ali and I interrupted his meeting with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They realized that I knew they were GCPD so Ali gave them the green light to whack me and left the room. The coward couldn’t even do it himself. After a few punches, I convinced them that I knew where Ali hides all his money and I would lead them to the stash.”

Tim’s forehead crinkled, “And do you know where Ali hides all his money?”

“Well…” Myriam stalled.

“Myr.” Tim said sternly.

“I do. But I don’t have the combination to the safe. But that doesn’t matter because those ass-hats aren’t getting a single cent.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I’ve got a few options.”

“Option one?”

“I show Ali that Cavallo and Wise are snakes. They’ll kill each other.”

“And they’ll kill you.” Tim rebutted matter-of-factly, “What’s option two?”

“When they come to get me in three days, I’ll lead them to someplace and Batman will knock them out and string them up on some kidnapping charge. I’ll testify at the trial and get those crooked cops in jail and Ali, too!”

“And then what?” Tim asked skeptically.

“Don’t patronize me, Tim.” Myriam hissed, “I know what this will mean for me. Myriam Abdullah will simply be a ghost. WITSEC would be my future. Does it matter? They pointed a gun at my head, Tim. They were going to kill me and I’m pretty sure they killed Adam, too.”

“You can’t just get Batman to beat them up and expect the D.A’s office to just press charges. It doesn’t work that way.” 

“Are you Batman?” Myriam snapped.

“No.” Tim answered, “I just… I went through this with my dad, Myr. I know how you’re feeling.” Tim started walking to the door, “I’ll make some phone calls. Please stay out of trouble.” He implored.

“I’m supposed to be dead, Tim. I’m staying indoors for the next 72 hours. You probably shouldn’t come here anymore. They might see you.”

Tim kissed her forehead, “I’ll make sure they don’t ever touch you again.” he promised.

“I really did miss you, Tim.”

“I missed you too, Myr.” He smiled and left.


	5. What Is and What Should Never Be

As Tim walked to his townhouse, he called the one person he knew that could convince Damian to help.

“Dick, I need a favour.” Tim said into the phone.

Dick sighed, “Another one?”

“Meet me at my house and I’ll explain.” Tim’s tone tattered on asking and demanding.  
…  
“You don’t write and you barely call,” Dick joked as he entered Tim’s home, “Don’t even invite me over for dinner.” He continued with a huge grin on his face.  
Tim laughed, “I only know how to make eggs.” He admitted.  
“What’s up, Tim?” Dick fell onto the couch.  
Tim explained Adam’s death and Myriam’s proven theory, “They beat her up, Dick.” Tim shook his head in disbelief, “Those pieces of shit have been trying to destroy everything the Neon Knights has been trying to fix. They’ve been forcing teens back into gang violence. Murder, assault… I’ve been trying to take Cavallo and Wise down for over a year; but no one would speak up before. Everyone’s been too scared.”  
“And now Myriam is offering to testify…” Dick contemplated the consequences of a teenage girl speaking up against two corrupt police officers, “Her life will never be the same.” He concluded.  
“It’s too late for that, Dick. Her parents are dead and now, her brother. She’s alone.”  
“Is this the same Myriam that—” Dick looked at his younger brother nod slowly in response, “you don’t want her to speak up?”  
Tim shook his head, “She helped me love again after Stephanie…Did I ever tell you what Myriam and her brother did for me after my dad died?” Tim paused for a moment, “They had dinner with me every single night until I left to Bludhaven. Every single evening at 5pm they knocked at my old house and walked in with take-out containers. It was like clock-work.” Tim sat on the coffee table across from Dick, “They saved me, Dick.” He smiled, “And this mess is my fault.” Tim continued, “The only reason Adam started working for his Uncle was because Tommy Elliott played dress-up and I wasn’t there to protect those under the Wayne Foundation. Then, Cavallo and Wise are only around because I couldn’t stop them when I was Robin.”  
“So let’s do what we can to make sure she doesn’t have to testify.” Dick stood up, “Do you have a plan?”  
“I’m still working on it.”  
Dick looked at Tim curiously, “Then what’s the favour?”  
“I need Damian to watch over Myriam.”  
Dick burst into laughter, “I can barely get the kid to sit still in a stake-out.”  
“Dick, I need you to try. Cavallo and Wise might show up before the three-day expiration date and that son-of-a-bitch of an uncle might find out she’s not actually dead. You’re busy being Batman and I’ve got something else to take care of. I need Damian to help.”  
Dick composed himself, “I’ll make it happen, Tim.” He promised, “What are your next steps?”  
Tim grinned wide, “It’s been a while since Red Robin and Batgirl had a team-up.”  
…  
“I’m going to kill them!” Stephanie screamed. Her voice echoed in the Cave.  
“Steph,” Tim called her calmly, “I thought you and Myr—“  
“Hated each other?” She completed his question, “Never hated each other. We just never saw eye-to-eye. We were usually friendly. I mean, her brother was one of my closest friends.” She answered.  
“What’s the plan?”  
“I’m still working through the details; I just need to press fast-forward on some Wayne Enterprises stuff to take Cavallo and Wise down. It’s the Ali stuff I need help with.”  
“Drake!” Damian’s voice echoed from the computer, “Your girlfriend is asleep. May I leave now?”  
“No, Damian. Just because she’s asleep doesn’t mean she’s no longer in danger.”  
“Tt.” Damian hung up.  
“How’d you manage to get Damian to watch over her?” Stephanie asked, “Did you have to sell your soul?”  
Tim looked at Stephanie in annoyance and rolled his eyes, “I have to spar with him every morning for the next month once this is over.”  
Stephanie laughed, “The things you do for love.”  
“Steph, Myriam and I had a moment. Once. It was a lifetime ago.” Tim admitted quietly.  
“Just like how we were?” She asked at the risk of sounding heartbroken.  
“We were like three lifetimes ago,” Tim joked, “Can we not do this right now?” He pleaded.  
“Where do you need me, boss?” Stephanie put her mask on.  
“Awtash Shisha Bar on Kane and Adelaide. Ali has been the head of Jamaa Al-Hara for over a decade and the GCPD and Batman have always seen him as a low threat. Obviously, he’s more violent and dangerous than we thought. We’re going to have to be creative in how we get him locked up since we won’t be able to get him arrested for anything major, yet. The objective is to get him arrested and thrown in county long enough to take Cavallo and Wise down, and get Myr to safety while we find evidence to get Ali put in prison for a very long time. It’ll be far from easy.”  
“Tom Cruise has nothing on us.”  
“What?”  
“Mission Impossible, Tim! God, where’s your culture?”  
Tim put on his mask, “Get in the car, Steph.”


	6. Falconry

Stephanie started laughing in the car.

Tim looked over confusedly, “There was no squirrel! Stop making me think I killed a squirrel with the Batmobile!”

“No, no.” Steph muffled through her laughter, “There was this time in Home Ec. with Adam and… God, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. He,” Stephanie snickered, “We were making pizza and our teacher, Mr. Rogers, he was a mean racist. Always made comments about Adam and other students. He was a real jerk. So Adam, really annoyed, he took the pizza dough and rolled it out and everything and spun it. But,” Stephanie tried to hold the laughter in, “when Mr. Rogers wasn't looking, Adam placed half the dough on his chair. The rest of the class loved Adam so they all gave him a small piece of each of their doughs so everyone’s was the same size and Mr. Rogers wouldn’t know who did it.” Stephanie held at her hips as she wheezed, “He sat down on his chair and when he got up… it was the funniest shit I’d ever seen. He walked around with it for like 20 minutes. He didn’t realize that dough was stuck to his ass until Zoanne burst into laughter. He called out Adam for it. Sent him to the Principal’s office but he couldn’t prove anything.” Steph sighed happily, “Good times.” 

Tim smiled, “He was a good guy.” Tim parked the bat-mobile two blocks away from Awtash. He and Batgirl sat on the roof across the street from the Shisha Bar and took turns looking through binoculars.

“So what could we get him on? Possession of cannabis? Expired liquor license?” She brainstormed.

Red Robin thought for a moment, “I’m thinking a simple misdemeanour like indecent exposure?” he laughed.

Batgirl smiled, “And how do we do that?”

“I’ll be right back,” Red Robin stood up.

…

“Steph, can you hear me?” Batgirl heard on her comm.-link.

“Where are you?” She replied.

“On the street. Black hoodie.”

Batgirl looked down and saw someone in a black hoodie walking towards Awtash, “What are you doing?”

Tim looked up to the roof and smiled, “Going to have some fun. When you see the signal, make the 9-1-1 call.”

Several minutes later, Batgirl saw Tim running onto the street holding a pair of pants. Behind him, a man was running after him, “What the f—“ she whispered. Quickly, she grabbed her cellphone and called 9-1-1, “Hello? Yes, I’d like to report a crime. There is a man running around Kane and Adelaide with no pants on. Yes, he is not wearing any pants! It’s quite disturbing.”

“Is anyone hurt?” The operator asked.

“No. No one’s hurt. Oh my god… he’s now yelling horrible words. He’s screaming at people on the street and thrusting his hips.” Stephanie embellished.

“We’ll have a squad car there in two minutes. Please refrain from making contact with the man.” The operator replied calmly, “Can I get your name and phone number?”

“Of course, my name is.” Stephanie quickly hung up. “R.R, GCPD will be here in two minutes. How long can you keep this up?” she asked over her comm.-link.

“I could do this all day.” Tim began waving the pants like a flag, making the half-naked man angrier. Once he heard the sirens from around the corner, he threw the pants in the nearest dumpster and ran off.

Batgirl watched from the rooftop as two rookie police officers arrested the man. The men inside the shisha bar watched from the sidewalk.

“That was exhilarating.” Tim sat beside Batgirl and watched the squad car drive away with the man.

“I recorded the whole thing.” Batgirl laughed.

“That was Mr. Ali Bashir, Head of Jamaa Al-Hara . Misdemeanour like this? He’ll probably spend the night in county, with no pants.” Tim smiled, “I haven’t had that much fun since I was a kid.” 

“How’d you even think of that?”

Tim smirked, “and you say I’m not cultured?” He stood up and began climbing down the fire escape. Batgirl swung down.

“So what’s the next step?” 

“Tomorrow morning, Tim Wayne will be making an announcement.”


	7. The Calm

“Hello?” Myriam answered her cell phone.

“Are you still asleep?” 

Myriam looked at her phone screen to see caller I.D., “Tim? It’s 8 in the morning.”

“Your point?”

“I’m supposed to be dead. I should be allowed to sleep in.” She answered dryly.

“Oh right. Can I stop by before work?”

Myriam yawned, “Yeah. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

Myriam pulled on a pair of sweatpants and tank top and gathered her hair in a loose bun. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth while the coffee maker worked its magic. She stared in the mirror. The bruising around her eye turned a deeper purple and red, and the stitches on her cheek were itchy. She walked past Adam’s room and saw the mess she made last night. She was hoping there’d be clues of what the combination to the safe was. She found nothing. She closed his door and walked down to the kitchen. Her doorbell rang as she pulled two mugs from the cupboard.

“This better be good, Tim.” She opened the door, obviously annoyed.

“I brought croissants.” He shook a paper bag in Myriam’s face.

Myriam poured them both coffee as Tim sat on the stool at the kitchen counter.

“Ali is in jail.” Tim said casually as he took a sip from his mug.

When he heard no reaction from Myriam, he looked up cautiously. She showed no emotion.

“Myr? Did you hear me?” 

“How?” She asked coldly.

“I made the call to Batman. I told him about Ali and the crooked cops. He said he’d take care of it. This morning I got an anonymous email saying Ali had been arrested for indecent exposure.” It pained Tim to hold in his laughter.

Myriam let out a light chuckle, “How about the dirty cops?”

“That’ll be my territory. There’s been speculation for weeks that I would be exposing crooked cops within the GCPD that have been hindering the Neon Knights. Today is the day I make that announcement.” Tim stated proudly.

Myriam took a long sip from her coffee, “They’re going to kill you.” She said fearfully.

Tim shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Myr. I’ve got security detail watching over me,” he assured her. “It’s you I’m worried about. How are you doing?”

Myriam walked to Tim’s side of the counter and jumped to sit on the counter, facing him on an angle, “I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet that he’s gone.” she took a sip of her coffee.

“And how about your face?”

“Hurts like a bitch.” She wiggled and made herself comfortable on the laminate countertop, “and the stitches are itchy.” She added.

“Let me take a look,” Tim put the coffee mug down and stood up to meet her height. He pushed the stray hairs behind her ears and looked at the bruising around her eye, “It’s going to take a while for it to heal; but, those stitches need to be covered better.” He brought his face closer to hers, their lips nearly touching, “I forgot the butterfly bandages.” She could smell the coffee and faint smell of the apple he ate for breakfast in his breath and could hear him swallow his saliva. They slowly leaned in closer to each other; their lips hovering. Neither one of them dare make the first lunge forward, “I… I should,” Tim tried to fight the urge but instead, he closed his eyes and allowed temptation to take control. He pushed his lips onto Myriam’s. It was too easy to fall back into old patterns. They both pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes for a second. Tim waited for Myriam to make the next move. Her eyes looked from his eyes to his lips anxiously. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips onto hers. He picked her up from the counter and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked backwards using pure muscle memory to reach the couch. It was as if nothing had changed between them. He slowly laid down on the brown upholstery and Myriam’s body followed. Her hips caressing his. They were moving but it felt like they were frozen in time. The sweat radiated off their bodies. Myriam removed Tim’s blazer, Tim cooperatively untied his tie and slipped the blazer off. Myriam began unbuttoning his grey dress shirt. There were no sounds except their hungry breaths bouncing off each other’s skin. Tim failed to catch his breath when he looked up at her as she undid her brown hair and it fell onto her face. She pushed her hair behind her ears and brought her face back down to Tim’s and slowly bit his bottom lip. 

Tim felt something different this time. Her lips moved aggressively and her fingers pulled at his hair. He could taste the emotions on her lips; but with every kiss he could feel her pain slowly disappear into limbo. 

Myriam traced her lips down his neck. Tim followed her teasing loyally while reaching for the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head.

“Ow!” Myriam shrieked and pulled away from Tim.

“Are you okay?” Tim sat up quickly.

“My eye.” Her left hand gently covered the bruised eye, “I moved and hit my face against your hand while…” She took a deep breathe and laughed, “Remember when we tried to sneak around so Adam wouldn't see us? He was only two minutes older than me; but yet, he thought he was the boss.” She smiled and looked at Tim gathering his clothes from the floor, “I don’t remember you having all those scars before, Tim.” She noticed, “You have a few new ones.” She stood behind him and gently traced the large scar on his shoulder blade. Her warm fingers against his skin made him feel fuzzy.

Tim smiled at the memories of them sneaking around. “Are you okay? Do you need ice?” Tim asked while buttoning up his shirt.

Myriam shook her head, “I’ll be okay.” Her heart still beating a mile a minute, “Wait, I thought you were engaged?” The realization that she had just become a mistress dawned on her face.

“Long-story short? I’m not.” He chuckled.

“Stay?” Myriam asked him.

Tim looked at his watch, “Shit, I’m late.” He quickly threw his blazer on and threw his tie into his pocket, “Sorry, Myr. Time to expose some dirty cops.” He gently kissed Myriam’s lips and ran out the door.

“Steph?” Tim said into his cellphone, “I just left Myriam’s. Can you start watching her?”

“I’ll be there in eight minutes, Tim.” She answered. 

“Call me when you get here.” He said while walking down the block to Wayne Enterprises.


	8. Goodbye, Cruel World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Abuse, strangulation

A few minutes after Tim left, Myriam heard impatient knocks at her door. 

“I knew you’d be back,” She laughed while unlocking the door, “You left your—“ The door swung open and Marcus Wise’s forearm dug into her throat before she could react. He pushed her into the wall across from the door. She struggled to loosen his grip on her neck as the air escaped her.

“Open the garage,” Wise whispered viciously into her ear and released her. 

Silently she walked to the mud-room, Wise followed behind her with a gun to the back of her head. She opened the garage door and pressed the large button on the wall that opened the garage. An old, brown Plymouth Gran Fury creeped into her garage; the garage closing behind it. Wise grabbed the back of her neck and threw Myriam to the kitchen floor. He was hunched over Myriam, breathing heavily with rage. He looked to the counter and saw two used coffee mugs. He grabbed Myriam’s throat and lifted her from the ground. Her feet dangled as she struggled to get out of his tight grip.

“Please,” she managed to cry out with the little oxygen she could muster.

“Who was here?” Wise growled at her.

“No— no one.” She answered faintly. 

…

“I’m on the roof,” Batgirl called Tim. “When are you making the announcement?”

“I’m actually supposed to make it in 30 minutes but I can’t get into my office. I forgot my keys at Myriam’s.” Tim replied, “I’m walking back to her place now. Should be there in a minute.”

“How’d you forget your keys… that are always in your pocket?” Batgirl asked scandalously.

“Shut up, Steph.” Tim hung up the phone.

…

Wise’s grip tightened around Myriam’s throat. She tried gasping for air, pulling frantically at his fingers around her neck. Her eyes watered as she felt heaviness in her chest.

The doorbell rang.

“Who is that?” Wise asked again in a raspy whisper.

“Myr! Answer the door! I forgot my keys!” A voice came from behind the door.

Wise released his grip from her neck, “Answer the door. Give him his keys and close the door.” 

Myriam dropped to the ground coughing. She stood up, trying to catch her breath and grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter. She walked to the door, the barrel of Wise’s gun poking into her back.

“And stop shaking,” Wise nudged her. 

She opened the door slightly, her head barely peaking behind it. Wise hid behind the door with his gun pointed at Myriam’s side.

“Hey, Tim,” she managed to say shakily, “Here are your keys.” Her voice was hoarse.

“Are you okay?” He noticed her shoulders shaking and the redness around her neck.

“Yeah, I,” Myriam thought of a lie quickly, “I was just thinking about Adam.” She felt the gun dig into her side, “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” She lied and quickly shut the door. She would probably never see him again.

Wise turned to Cavallo, “That voice.” He whispered suspiciously and threw Myriam to the floor again, “That was fucking Tim Wayne, wasn’t it?”

Myriam shook her head quickly, scared that if she said yes, they’d shoot her.

“Where’s the money?” Cavallo chimed in before Wise could run out the door and shoot the billionaire in the back.

Myriam used the wall to stand up, “Downstairs.” She confessed, “The key is in the kitchen.”

“Get it.” Wise continued pointing his gun at her.

Hesitantly, she opened the drawer and pulled out a key. Cavallo grabbed the back of her neck and dragged her to the top of the stairs and pushed her down. She rolled onto the concrete floor of the unfinished basement held together with steal beams and items belonging to her parents that were recovered from the ‘quake. The two cops followed her down the steps. She groaned still holding the key tight; she could feel the stitches rip out of her cheek and the loss of feeling in her right wrist. Cavallo grabbed her by the arm, “Where is the safe?”

…

“Steph?” Tim called into his phone.

“Big bird reads you, Oscar,” she replied back, obviously bored.

“Something’s going on in there,” He warned, “Myriam wasn’t right. Are you sure she’s alone in there?”

Stephanie pulled out her binoculars and looked through the windows, “Top floor is clear and main floor is… wait. Tim, I see two males through the reflection of the mirror in the family room. Wait, they’re not there anymore. They must’ve gone downstairs.”

“Shit! Roman and Marcus must have found out I was going to make the announcement today. They probably thought they could get the money from Myr and flee with it.”

“I’m going in.” Batgirl swung down to the street and ran past Tim.

…

Cold sweats covered Myriam’s body. It felt like water was soaking through her clothes and she wasn’t sure if it was only sweat or if she lost control of her bladder. She managed to lift her right arm and point to a small shipment container in the corner of the basement.

“Open it!” She wasn’t sure who commanded this. The voices echoed in her ear and the room was spinning.

With the little strength she had left, she dragged her feet to the shipment container and used the key to open it, revealing a black safe.

Batgirl slowly crept down the stairs, she couldn’t see anything yet but she could hear the two cops yelling.

“What’s the combination?”

“I- I don’t know.” Myriam stuttered. 

“What!” Cavallo screamed, “You don’t know the combination?” This time it was his hand around her throat.

“No -“ she yelled before his grip tightened.

Cavallo’s eyes turned bloodshot red and looked as if they were about to pop out of his eye-sockets. The veins in his neck pulsed as he squeezed her neck. Tears streamed down   
Myriam’s cheeks, the salt stinging the gash on her face. The feeling of drowning overwhelmed her. She could feel her fingernails digging into his arm as her eyes slowly rolled into her head and her hands dropped to her sides.

Then, the lights turned off and Myriam slipped into unconsciousness and slowly, she could no longer feel the fingers around her neck. She could only hear muffled yells until everything was muted.


	9. Knockin' on Heaven's Door

“It’s just you and me now, Myriam.” Adam hugged his sister, “We’ve gotta look after each other, okay?”  
Myriam recognized the scene. It was a few weeks after their parents died, when they returned to a destroyed Gotham. Myriam could feel her brother’s arms around her and his heart beating in his chest. But, this wasn’t the present. Everything felt wrong.

“I thought you were gone,” Myriam whispered, still embracing her brother not wanting to let go. “It must’ve been a dream,” she sighed in relief.

“I have to go, Myr.” Her brother kissed her forehead.

“No, stay!” She begged him.

Her brother pulled away from her and raised an eyebrow, his eyes weren’t the dark brown orbs she remembered; rather, they were black spheres in his eye socket. She stood up frantically, “No, no, you’re not Adam.” She backed away from him, “No!” She screamed and Adam disappeared and a white light flashed in front of her.

“Stay with us, Myriam.” She could hear a calm voice encouraging her. Myriam’s eyes struggled opened, only seeing blurry faces with every blink. “Patient is regaining consciousness, doctor.” The same voice said. Myriam could feel a swarm of people around her. Flashes of light hit her eyes, “No internal swelling or bleeding detected.” 

“Where—“ she managed to sputter through the pain.

“Limited injury to larynx box.” The woman added, “You’re at Gotham West Hospital, Myriam. You’re going to be okay.” The woman whispered calmly into her ear.

Myriam slowly nodded but stopped when the ache in her neck spiked. The cold air stopped and only three shapes surrounded her. Another flash of light shined into Myriam’s eyes, “pupils are returning to normal size.” One of the shapes noted, “Myriam, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Myriam croaked.

“Can you see me?”

“Shapes.” She said hoarsely.

“What day is it?”

“April 10.” She answered.

“What’s the year?”

“2015.”

“What is your full name?”

“Myriam… Abdullah.” She stuttered.

“Good girl,” the voice applauded her, “You’re doing great, Myriam.”

Her eyes opened wide and a tone of urgency emerged, “Wise and…”

Before she could finish her sentence, one of the shapes responded, “The two men who hurt you have been arrested.”  
Slowly, the shapes became faces. She could only see the outline of his eyes, nose and his mouth was covered by his moustache. He apologized and left the room. Everything went dark.

…

Myriam’s eyes fluttered open. She was in a room she had never seen before. She could smell the cold, sterile air and the sheets covering her were white rather than her bright teal bedsheets at home. She noticed a needle poking into her left forearm, a grey clothespin around her forefinger, another needle poking into her wrist, a light blue cast around her right wrist, and an uncomfortable oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. With her left hand, she weakly removed the mask and let it hang loosely around her neck.

“You should leave that on.” She recognized Tim’s voice at the door, “how are you feeling?” 

“Cavallo and Wise—?” Her voice was still hoarse.

“Arrested. Internal Affairs launched a full-fledged investigation into their corruption. So far, they’re being charged with enough things to put them in Blackgate for the next 50 years. ” Tim sat in the chair at the edge of the right side of the bed, “once again, how are you feeling?”

“Peachy.” Myriam answered dryly.

Tim looked at her sternly.

“It hurts to swallow,” she admitted.

“You’ve got a bruised larynx, a sprained wrist, and some cuts,” Tim explained, “among other things.”

“What time is it?”

Tim looked at his watch, “It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. I think a more important question is ‘what day is it?’”

Myriam looked at Tim with drooping eyes.

“It’s April 11th. You went through some tests for a few hours but overall, you’ve been asleep for like 26 hours.”

“It feels like I’ve been hit by a train.” she chuckled. “Ow.” Her entire body ached.

Tim gently held her right fingers and kissed her knuckles, “Do you want to hear about how I fought off the nurses to save your lunch?”

Myriam grinned, “My hero!” she said sarcastically and, with Tim’s help, propped herself up to eat, “What’s on the menu?”

Tim placed the tray of food on the table in front of her, “Well, we’ve got cold chicken noodle soup and,” Tim lifted the brown cover, “a salad?” he revealed anti-climactically.

“This sucks.” Myriam pouted, “the bag of croissants you brought over are still sitting in my kitchen.” she said disappointedly.

“I’ll try to sneak you a chocolate bar later,” Tim promised.

“Bring me a box of Lindt Lindor and you’ve won my heart, Drake.” she joked, “When can I get out of here anyway?” She asked while eating the cold soup.

“You’ve got a cabinet full of meds to take; but otherwise, you’re free to go this evening.” 

“Thank God!” She finished the bowl of soup within seconds, “I’m curious, who saved me?”

“When you answered the door, I knew something was wrong so I called Batman Inc. They sent Batgirl.”

Myriam poked at the salad, “Can you thank Batgirl for me?” 

Tim nodded, “GCPD will be releasing Adam’s body tonight.”

Myriam dropped the fork and looked at Tim. Her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to fully smile.

“Alfred’s made all the arrangements. The Mosque will be holding his funeral tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Myriam cried happily.

“That’s… that’s not all, Myr.” Tim said solemnly, “Ali was released from county this morning. The media has kept your name out of the story on the dirty cops but Ali will figure it out eventually.”

Myriam sat silently, staring at the tubes connected to her body, “I just want to know why they killed Adam.” She finally whispered.

Tim moved the tray of food away from Myriam and sat beside her on the bed, gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and bringing her into his chest, “Adam will get justice.” he whispered.


	10. Gimme Shelter

The funeral ended and after family and high school friends gave their condolences, Myriam snuck away to go home. She didn’t want to see anyone else. She just wanted to be with her thoughts; with all the chaos after Adam’s murder, she hadn’t had a moment to really mourn yet.

As she walked down the Gotham street to the bus stop, she heard someone yelling her name behind her. She turned around and found Stephanie running towards her.

The blonde recovered with deep breaths, “Man, you’re a fast walker.” She panted, “How are you doing?” Stephanie asked.

Myriam looked at her blankly, “I just buried my twin brother, I have a black eye, a sprained wrist, a bruised larynx, more bruises on my body than I can count, and a neck that looks like my head was sewn onto my body. Oh, and let’s not forget, the man who ordered the death of my brother is still out there and might just kill me at any moment.” Myriam replied with a deep snark in her tone.

“Anger.” Stephanie whispered.

“What?” Myriam kept walking.

“Stages of grief,” Steph explained, “You’ve moved past denial, and now you’re on anger.”

“Don’t psycho-analyze me, Steph.” Myriam snapped.

“I’m sorry!” Steph yelled behind her, “I’m sorry that—“

Myriam stopped walking. “Don’t start,“ she warned.

“I’m sorry that Adam was killed, I’m sorry our friendship was always handicapped by our histories with Tim, and I’m sorry you’ve had to go through the shit you have.”

Stephanie could see her shoulders shake, she slowly walked towards Myr and place her hand on Myr’s shoulder. Myriam shrugged her hand away and kept walking.

“Myriam!” She called after her; but Myriam kept walking.

She entered her home and filled the bathtub with cold water. Her hands shook as she grabbed the painkillers by the sink and swallowed the prescribed dosage. Once the tub was filled, she stuck her right foot in. The hair on her arms spiked and her entire body shivered. Slowly, she submerged herself into the water. Her head stayed above the water level. She took deep breaths preparing for what she was about to do. She wrapped her hands around the rim of the tub and slid deeper into the water until her head was under the surface. She counted to ten then lifted her head. She coughed as the cold air dried her throat. Her black funeral dress floated in the water. She dunked her head into the water again and counted to 10 again. She raised her head and through the shivers tried to catch her breath. She crawled out of the tub onto the floor towel and curled into a fetal position. She rocked herself back and forth, her tears blending with the cold water on her face.

After warming her body with the motion, she sat up against the tub and drained the water that had also warmed up in the early Gotham spring heat. She sat with her back against the tub as the water swirled down the drain, her head resting in her hands. When the pipes swallowed the last gulp of water and made the growling sound that seemed universal across all bathtubs and used to scare her when she was younger, she stood up and looked in the mirror.

“It’s all going to be alright,” she comforted herself, “everything’s going to be okay.” She removed the dress and dried herself with her towel. 

…

Myriam approached the door cautiously when she heard the doorbell ring. She waited by the door to hear some hint of who was behind it.

“Myr, it’s Tim.” A voice said through the door.

Relief washed over her and she opened the door, “I’ve learned my lesson about opening the door to strangers,” she joked.

“That’s not funny, Myr.” Tim said as he walked in with a bag of take-out containers.

“I’d recognize those take-out boxes anywhere,” she followed him to the kitchen, “chicken pad thai and spring rolls,” she licked her lips.

“Extra spicy and extra chicken,” Tim winked.

“You’re on a hero-streak these days.”

“Just trying to make up for lost time.” Tim pulled out the containers and placed them on the counter.

“God, I love MSG,” Myriam scarfed down the box of pad thai.

Tim laughed, “How are you feeling?”

“You missed my breakdown earlier,” she said half-jokingly, “It kind of hit me like a ton of bricks that he’s really gone.” She took a bite of a spring roll, “It’s weird. We’ve been inseparable since birth, I mean, neither of us have actually lived without the other before. We had the same group of friends, same homework assignments, same hobbies. We leaned on each other… told each other everything.”

Tim quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, “everything?”

Myriam laughed, “I tried to keep it from him… keep it our secret,” she explained, “But, he and I got in this nasty fight last year and out of spite, I yelled it at him.”

“Shit,” Tim muttered.

“He was furious, don’t get me wrong.” She continued, “but after cooling off, he came to me and said something along the lines of ‘Tim’s a good guy. If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was him.’”

Tim sighed in relief, “That explains a lot.” Tim realized thinking back to how kindly Adam treated him shortly after he and Myr had their moment.

They finished their meal and moved to the couch. Myriam laid down and flipped through channels on the TV, while Tim answered some phone calls that seemed to be about the cancelled press conference that was supposed to take place earlier that week. Tim ended the last call in anger, “We’ll finish this conversation in my office tomorrow morning.” He hung up. He lifted Myriam’s head and sat down, laying her head on his lap.

They sat there silently. Tim played with loose strands of her hair as she channel surfed.

“I’m curious,” Tim broke the silence, “how the hell did you get a safe and shipment container in the basement?” he laughed.

Myriam looked up at him, “Damned if I knew. Jamaa Al-Hara men came over one day after Adam and I moved into this place and worked their magic and put it in our basement. When my dad first hid it for Ali, he put it in some old warehouse. After the ‘quake, they had to move it somewhere.” Myriam brushed her fingers against Tim’s jaw, “Thanks for keeping hands off today at the Mosque,” she smiled, “I must stay pure,” she said sarcastically.

“When was the last time you went to the Mosque?” he held her fingers against his face.

“Five long years ago,” she admitted, “My parents weren’t that religious to begin with, add the fact that Adam and I didn’t really have any role models growing up, it’s predictable that we wouldn’t end up devout.” 

Tim curled towards her and kissed her lips. “I miss him,” she whimpered as her lips locked onto his. 

“I know,” he whispered as he gently propped her up and she sat on his lap, continuing gentle kisses along the scars on her neck.

She kissed his brows as his lips trailed along her neck. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted between deep breaths.

“I know,” he moaned as he picked her up from under her knees and back, her left arm wrapped around his neck. He led her to the other side of the room and sat her on the counter, his lips never leaving hers. The only noise that could be heard was the Simpsons re-run playing on the TV and their breaths echoing off their skin. Tim moved gently, mindful of her injuries and Myriam moved as if challenging him to push harder. She wrapped her legs around his knees and pulled him in closer. He lifted her again and he pushed her against the wall as his kisses trailed from her lips to her neck.

“No… stop.” she panted and dropped her legs to the ground.

He stopped and saw tears stream down her cheeks, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath and shook the thought out of her mind, “Walls and pressure around my neck aren’t exactly my favourite combo right now.”

Tim blinked in realization of what Myriam must have just gone through, “of course,” he said understandably, “do you… do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head, “I want to bury that memory deep, deep down.” 

Tim’s phone rang, “one second,” he whispered to Myriam and dug into his pocket, “shit, I have to get this.” He said apologetically.

“Hey, Bruce.” Tim said trying to hide the fact that he was out of breathe, “Yeah, of course. Umm… okay. I— I’ll be there in 10.” He hung up the phone and looked at Myriam.

“Is the Imperial March your ringtone for Bruce?” She snickered.

Tim put the phone in his pocket and laughed, “Yeah, it’s a joke between Dick and I,” he explained, “I’m really sorry, Myr. I really have to go. Bruce… uh… needs me to get on a call with some investors.” Tim lied.

“Tim, it’s a Sunday,” she pointed out suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Tim scratched at his head, “they’re Australian. Damned time difference.” 

“Stay?” Myriam cupped his face in her hands, her cast scratching at his cheek. “Please,” she kissed him deeply.

“I can’t,” he said regrettably. “I’ll come back,” he promised.


	11. Poetic Justice

Myriam locked the door behind him and went up to her room. She had to get used to being alone. She found herself in Adam’s room, somehow. She laid on his bed and breathed into the pillow— she could still smell his sandalwood scented after-shave mixed with the scent of double apple tobacco. She curled into a fetal position and cradled his pillow in her arms. She looked to the floor and saw a book peaking from underneath his bed. She carefully reached down with her fully-functioning hand and pulled it up. It was a pocket-sized notepad. Myriam flipped through the pages and recognized Adam’s hand-writing. There were dates thrown on every page with a few sentences beneath them. On the page dated May 21, 2014, the following was scribbled:

_Uncle Ali offered me a job today. Moving shipments from dock to warehouse._

Myriam flipped through the pages to the middle of the book. She looked through the dates until she reached April of 2015.

_April 1, 2015: Tricked Myr into thinking I got a girl pregnant. April Fools!_

_April 4, 2015: Finals are next week. Need to fit more time to study. P.S. Practice roulette move. Need to beat Ahmed at next game._

_April 7, 2015: Went to the warehouse during the day. Ali has been importing cocaine. This isn’t what I signed up for. I need to protect Myr. This could get me in jail if I keep it a secret. I’m done working for Jamaa Al-Hara._

_April 8, 2015: Called Ali and told him I quit. He was angry. I told him I don’t traffic drugs. I’ll finish tonight’s shipment and I’m out. I’ve never seen him so angry before. It was scary. Now I just need to start looking for another job._

The entries stopped there. She paced around the room with the notebook in her hand, re-reading the last page of entries. The GCPD hadn’t locked Ali up yet and Myriam wasn’t sure why and at the moment, Myriam had trust issues with the police. Ali killed her brother for no reason except for the fact that he quit Ali’s mob and knew that he was drug trafficking. The cops weren't going to stop this drug trafficking asshole, Myriam thought, it was up to her to stop him. Myriam pulled out her phone and called one of the few people Adam hung out with at ‘work.’

“Hello?” The man answered.

“Hamza, it’s Myriam. I—“ she spoke frantically.

“One moment, please.” He replied calmly and she could hear people yelling behind him and then it became silent, “You shouldn’t be calling me.” He hissed.

“I know. I— I just need you to answer a few questions.” She begged.

“If anyone hears me, I’m a deadman.” He was worried. If Myriam didn’t know what Jamaa Al-Hara was capable of, she would’ve thought he was unreasonably paranoid.

“I just need to know, where’s Ali going to be tonight?”

“What? What are you thinking?”

“Hamza! I need to know.”

Hamza thought for a moment, “It’s Sunday so he’ll be at White Lily Spa.”

“A spa?” Myriam asked in disbelief.

“The happy ending kind,” Hamza clarified, “It’s down the street from Awtash.”

Myriam thanked him.

“I’m sorry about Adam,” Hamza added quickly.

“Yeah, me too.” Myriam replied and hung up.

She grabbed the wooden bat in the corner of Adam’s room and slipped it into a gym bag.

She crept through the shadows of Kane Street looking for White Lily Spa. She finally found it on the east side of the street, right before Gotham’s red-light district. The spa was dimly lit and there was a single receptionist behind a desk wearing floral scrubs; she was surrounded by three men in suits waiting for their turn. Before the receptionist could say anything, Myriam raised a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. Myriam pulled the bat out of the gym bag and slowly walked down the hallway of rooms, each divided by sliding doors. She could hear moans from the other side of the paper walls. She snuck her head into each room looking for Ali. After passing by several disturbing interactions, she finally heard Ali’s voice. He was grunting as he yelled profanity in Arabic. Myriam slowly slid open the door.

“We’re not finished!” Ali yelled.

Myriam winded the bat back with her left arm and slowly nudged the ‘masseuse’ to the side with her other.

Ali’s eyes shot out of his head. “Myri—“ She hit him in the side of the head before he could finish her name.

The ‘masseuse’ ran out of the room screaming.

“Hello, uncle.” She greeted him smugly, “you tried to kill me, remember?” She hit him again in the ribs, “You killed, Adam. You were like a father to him and you ordered his murder.” Her left arm was weak but the wooden bat was solid enough to bruise, “for what? Because he found out you were the scumbag you are?” She hit him in the head again and he yelped in pain, “you were trafficking coke and he found out. Were you scared he was going to rat you out?” she hit him harder, “you’re a coward!” she hit his shoulder with the remaining strength she had, “this scar on my face is to remind me that you are the monster.” she pointed to her black eye and kicked him in the stomach.

Ali was unresponsive. He laid back as his body fell limp.

“Myriam!” Someone yelled, “stop!”

She followed the voice to a masked man at the door. She could see the silhouette of his uniform and knew enough about Gotham’s costumed heroes to know it was Red Robin.

“He killed my brother,” she tried to explain, “I had to do something. He was drug trafficking! Killing thousands!” She justified not realizing she was crying. She threw the baseball bat to the ground and reached for Ali’s neck, “he’s still breathing.” She sighed in relief.

“Step away from him,” Red Robin instructed.

“He destroyed my life!” Myriam cried and picked up the bat again.

Red Robin approached her slowly and slipped the bat out of her grip. “That’s enough,” he calmed her.


	12. No One's Here to Sleep

Myriam dropped to her knees, holding her head in her left hand. Her shoulders trembling with each sob. Red Robin kneeled beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She looked to the masked vigilante. Her eyebrows pulled together and she examined him, his posture, his jawline, and the way his shoulders curved in as if he was caring the weight of the world on his back. 

“I knew it,” she exclaimed, “Tim?” she whispered.

Red Robin backed away from her quickly, and tapped his right ear, “Oracle, I’m going to need paramedics and GCPD at White Lily Spa on Kane. I’ve got Ali Bashir here and he’s banged up pretty bad.” He paused, “I’m not sure what happened. Suspect must’ve bolted before I got here.” He lied.

Myriam stood up and stared at Red Robin.

“You should go home. Now.” He growled.

Myriam picked up the baseball bat and gym bag, and ran home. Sobs blended with her panting as she raced down the street. Her home only two blocks away.

She entered through the garage, grabbed a shovel, then, ran to the back corner of the backyard. Her entire body shook as she dug. She wasn’t sure how deep the hole should be but she kept digging until her wrist shot in pain.

“Shit,” she grimaced. She looked down into the hole and hoped it was deep enough and threw the bloody bat into the ground. Careful not to hurt her wrist again, she used her left hand to drag the dirt back into the ground. When the hole filled, she threw the shovel to the ground in disgust and wrapped her arms around her shoulders trying to shield herself from the shivers. She took a deep breath and picked up the shovel again, calmly, she walked back to the garage and put the shovel back in its exact spot and went into the house.

…

She got out of the shower with pruned skin and wrapped a towel around her chest. She wiped the steam off the mirror with the back of her hand and stared. 

She nearly became a killer tonight. The rage she felt when she saw Ali, it was indescribable. It was as if her entire body was covered in flames and the only way to extinguish the fire was to swing. She brushed her hair and slipped into shorts and a t-shirt. Once again, she found herself in Adam’s room, laying on his bed. She tried to sleep but the nightmares kept her awake.

In one dream, Marcus Wise had his hands wrapped around her neck. As he choked her, she could hear Adam’s voice in the background. He’d scream to the man to let her go and then a gunshot would ring and she’d wake up. Cold sweats covered her body as she panted trying to catch her breath. She looked out the window and saw the sun slowly rise.

“The sunrise in Gotham is probably one of the most beautiful in the world,” a voice said from her door.

“It’s… nice,” Myriam struggled to find the words to describe it. It really was beautiful. You could see almost every colour of the spectrum in the sky.

“How’d you get in?” She asked Tim curiously.

“Your window, obviously.” He replied and sat at the foot of the bed.

“Naturally,” Myriam said sarcastically.

They sat silently, both staring out the window.

“Myr—“ Tim began.

“I didn’t want to kill him,” Myriam admitted quickly and turned to look at Tim’s reaction. His brows lowered and his shoulders curved in, “I found out why he killed Adam and I was just so angry. I just wanted justice.”

“Ali’s been arrested. Everyone in that ‘spa,’” Tim said in air-quotes, “was arrested. I’ve talked to the D.A. They said that with your testimony, they could convince the judge for a warrant to investigate Ali.”

“Did the D.A. tell this to Red Robin or Tim Drake-Wayne?” she asked angrily.

“Does it matter?” He asked anticipating her anger.

“What if he tells the D.A. that I beat him with a baseball bat?” She asked concerned.

Tim brushed his fingers along Myriam’s leg, “Guys like Ali won’t admit to something like that. He’d rather go to jail than tell the world he was beaten up by an 18-year girl. He’s too proud.” Tim comforted her.

“The weird injuries, sleeping during class, the weirdly-timed doctor’s appointments…I can’t believe you wear hockey pads and fight bad guys at night.”

“I don’t wear hockey pads. It’s graphene composite kevlar,” he clarified.

“You were Robin before, weren’t you? A part of me always knew you had some secret; but never this,” she admitted.

“I always wanted to tell you,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” She asked him softly.

“It wasn’t just my secret to tell,” he said apologetically.

“Don’t tell me Bruce is Batman?” she chuckled and Tim scratched at his head avoiding eye contact, “Bruce is frigging Batman!” She laughed in disbelief, “this is one hell-of-a-secret to keep, Tim. I was your… something,” She was never sure what they were.

Tim cocked an eyebrow, “‘something’?”

“Friends with benefits? Lovers? Girlfriend and boyfriend? We never really discussed it. Before we could, you left, remember?” She reminded him bitterly.

“I know—“

“You broke my heart! Where did you go?” Her brown eyes filled with angry tears, “and don’t lie to me,” she hissed.

“France, Spain, Iraq, Turkey… everywhere.” Tears streamed down Tim’s cheeks.

“Why?” She cupped his face in her hands wiping away his tears with her thumbs, “Why did you leave?”

“Bruce was dead… well, sort of. It’s complicated. I had to find him.”

“Bruce was on TV in Gotham holding press conferences when you were gone, Tim.”

“No, that wasn’t the real Bruce. That was someone dressed as Bruce. Bruce was dead, sort of.”

Myriam slowly brushed the back of her hand against Tim’s cheek, “Bruce is dead? Tim, I’m so sorry.”

Tim smiled, “It’s okay. Bruce is back now.”

Myriam startled, “what?”

“It’s complicated; but, Bruce is…uh… undead.”

“Your life… what the hell…” she laid back down on the bed and rubbed her temples. 

“God, if you only knew.” he shook his head.

“So tell me,” Myriam sat up quickly, “or am I just some booty call for you?” she was hurt.

“No!” Tim answered quickly, “God, no.”

“Then what is this, Tim? Friends, or whatever I thought we were, tell each other things. I can see it in the way you carry yourself. You try so hard to be strong all the time but I can tell you’re burying so much inside and you’re carrying so much deadweight on your shoulders, let me help carry the load. You’re drowning yourself. The only reason I can imagine for you not telling me is because you don’t actually care about me! I’m just some girl!” she yelled.

“That’s not—“

“Then what is it?” She screamed at him, feeling the pain flare in her throat.

“I loved you, Myr!” He finally admitted, “I still do… you were who I saw when I closed my eyes. You were the one I thought of when I was ever near-death. I know I never told you this. Never explicitly, at least. But, whenever our lips touched, God this sounds so cheesy, but, every time I was near you, slowly, I could feel all this weight on my back be lifted. You made me feel that way. For me, it always felt like we were talking even when we were silent because… you know when you finally tell someone something and that weight in your chest disappears? That’s how it felt every time I saw you. It was like my world was on fire and no one could save me but you. It was like—“

“I swear to God, Tim, if you say ‘sexual healing’ I’m going to smack you.” Myriam’s lips curved slightly upwards.

“If the shoe fits,” Tim smiled that smile that made Myriam’s knees weak. 

“You’re a dork,” She grinned and kissed him deeply.


	13. Wicked Game

Tim pushed the loose strands of Myriam’s hair behind her ear, “I’m sorry those assholes hurt you,” he whispered, “I should’ve been there.”

“It’s not your fault, Tim.” She pushed her cheek into the palm of his hand, “don’t believe for a second it was your fault.”

“But—“ Tim tried to explain. Explain that the reasons Cavallo and Wise were still on the GCPD was because of his failures as Robin and it was his fault the Wayne Foundation cheques stopped going to Adam and Myriam. He left Gotham to look for Bruce without tying loose ends.

“Stop,” she placed her forefinger against his lips, “it’s not your fault. Knowing you, you’re going to find a way to put the blame on yourself. It’s not your fault, goddammit.”

Tim’s hand slowly moved down Myriam’s face to her shoulder and pushed her hair off her neck, “They hurt you so badly.” He looked at the finger marks embedded in a reddish-purple on Myriam’s neck, “I’m supposed to be a hero! I should’ve stopped them!” 

“You did stop them,” She reminded him, “You saw that I wasn’t okay when you came back to my door and you immediately got help.”

“I shouldn’t have waited for Batgirl to confirm my suspicions. I should have walked in anyways and saved you.” He continued.

“They would’ve killed us both if you barged in,” Myriam rebutted.

“No, I could’ve stopped them. I--”

“No, you couldn’t have. They had a gun against me and you were wearing an Armani suit sans hockey pads,” she didn’t want to cry but the tears still fell down Myriam’s cheeks.

He wiped the tears away with his thumb, “Does it hurt?”

She nodded slowly, “I don’t know what’s worse, the physical pain or people staring at me. You should’ve seen people on the bus yesterday. I mean, I don’t blame them. Look at me!” a breathy laugh slipped from her lips, “I have a black eye, stitches on my face and… my neck. I look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I was going to wear a scarf but it made me anxious.”

“You don’t have to cover up your injuries, Myr.” Tim kissed her shoulder careful not to startle her, “Someone tried to kill you and you survived and I don’t just mean life and death survival. I’m talking mentally.You’re not letting it control you. You don’t have to wear your scars in shame. I see them as a medal of valour. Plus, I think the stitches make you look badass,” he laughed, “I think it’s sexy.”

Myriam looked at him suspiciously.

“What?” he laughed.

“You probably see a lot of girl heroes with stitches and shit. Like Batgirl and Wonder Girl… do you think they’re all sexy?”

Tim’s smiled turned into a nervous grin, “No, I only have eyes for you, habibti.” 

“Good answer,” she pecked his cheek. “Now, I’m sure you must have had a bunch of black eyes and stuff… how did you hide it?”

“For the sake of my manhood, I will never answer that question,” he laughed.

“Nars or Makeup Forever?” she chuckled.

“Na— no! I’m not answering that.”

“You loved me?” She asked grinning.

“No one ever made me feel the same way as you.”

“Not even Stephanie?”

Tim shook his head, “Stephanie had her own demons. Her and I had sparks; but you and I? I felt … giddy.” a breathy laugh left his lips, “You’re the girl of my dreams.” 

Myriam brushed his hair back. “Follow me,” she ordered and wrapped a finger around one of his belt loops. She stood up and Tim followed her to her bedroom. 

Tim knew where this was going, “Myr, if you want me to le—“

She shushed him and pushed him onto her bed. “Just shut up,” she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her in a black bra and her shorts. She crawled onto the bed and caressed Tim’s hips with her own, her chest parallel to his. “You said that it felt like your world was on fire and I was the only one that could save you,” she whispered in his ear, “now I need you to save me.” She kissed his ear and bit at his lobe and moved to his lips.

Tim began unbuttoning his shirt and she helped him with the last few buttons, their lips never letting go. Once the shirt flew off, Myriam undid Tim’s belt and slowly unbuttoned the jeans and threw them to the ground. Their hands holding onto each other as if the world was about to end; as if, it were on fire. In the ecstasy, Myriam’s shorts also landed on the floor of her bedroom. With every touch, every thrust, every moan and every kiss, Myriam’s pain slowly drifted away. 

…

“Tell me a story,” Myriam whispered gleefully kissing Tim’s calloused palm.

They laid in her bed. Her back curved into his chest, his arms wrapped around her and their legs intertwined like vines.

He chuckled, “A story?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve seen every side of this city. The bad and the ugly… you must have some stories.” she clarified.

“How about the good?” He asked kissing the nape of her neck.

“That side doesn’t exist.” 

“Not from where I’m looking,” he said sweetly.

She turned her head to face him. “That was very smooth. I’m impressed,” she admitted and kissed his lips. “Tell me something you couldn’t tell me before.”

Tim thought for a moment, “Remember about a year and a half ago when I got kidnapped during lunch?”

He could feel her head nod against his neck.

“I let that happen. We found out that there was a kidnapping ring in Gotham. A bunch of assholes kidnapping wealthy kids and requesting ridiculous ransoms. I went in undercover to find out where they were holed up, then took them down.” he recounted.

“I went out of my mind that day!” She elbowed him in the arm.

“Ow! I’m sorry,” he kissed the back of her ear, “I had to.”

“What else?”

“You’re really going to kill me,” he chuckled.

“What is it?” She asked sternly.

“Homecoming dance—“

“Oh no,” she turned her face towards him and Tim could see her nostrils flare, “you didn’t actually have the flu?” She suspected, “You owe me a dance!” she elbowed him again.

“Ow! It wasn’t my fault! The Joker escaped Arkham!” 

“Tell me something else?” She turned her body and laid on top of his. Her head resting on his chest.

“A week or so before my dad died,” Myriam could hear his heartbeat thump a little louder, “someone else I cared about died. That same year, two of my best friends died and then, all those earths showed up in the sky and the people that came to our earth from the alternate ones, they were vicious. In the final battle, they nearly killed Nightwing… they pretty much did. His heart stopped for a little bit. Batman just went berserk and… Batman has a rule, we don’t kill… he almost killed everyone.” Myriam’s body rose and fell with Tim’s chest, “Nightwing is like a brother to me and Batman, a father.” 

Myriam kissed Tim’s chest, “that’s horrible.” 

“I never really told anyone that story before. It’s… nice to finally be able to tell somebody… tell you.” 

“Does it get better? The feeling of emptiness and… anger?”

She felt his arms tighten around her, “It does… a little. Some mornings, it feels like life is finally on your side and everything is good in the world. Other mornings, it hurts so much you can barely breathe.”

Sunlights creeped into the bedroom and brightened the room.

Tim reached to the floor and searched for his pants blindly. He pulled out his phone from the pocket and looked at the time.

“Don’t tell me you have to leave to work?” She asked Tim.

He shook his head and kissed the top of her head. “That’s the beauty of being the boss. I can work from home whenever I want.” 

“Good,” she kissed his chin, “I want you to stay for as long as possible.”

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to,” he interlocked his fingers into hers. 

They laid there quietly as Tim played with Myriam’s hair and she traced the scars on his chest. Tim felt her finger stop in one place right above his collarbone. He looked down and saw her eyes were closed and her chest raised and lowered peacefully against his. Tim stopped playing with her hair and closed his eyes. He wanted to stay in this position forever.


End file.
